Riding Shotgun...

I've delayed writing this for two weeks now, as it's hard to put it all into words and the details are still falling out around us.  Saturday, February 15th, we watched Youngest celebrate a 2nd place win in the D3 South Section Regional wrestling tournament. We watched every second of his matches with extensive scrutiny making sure every nuisance was caught indicating something was going horribly wrong for reasons that NO PARENT EVER wants to.

Because 12 hours earlier, he had to cut his own seat belt and crawl out of this car.

He had been home, had a bit to eat, and had fianally decided on a College. We discussed his decision a bit, and agreed it was the best place for him regardless of it being 2 hours away.  He was headed out back to the high school to watch the basketball game and would be home early as he knew he had an early bus for wrestling in the morning.  He left, we went to our Valentine's dinner, and promptly after I settled in at home in my jammies, I got a phone call.  

"Mom, something's wrong with the car.  I can't get it started."

I threw on my pants, and headed out to pick him up.  Apparently a friend had called to see if he had wanted to grab dinner, so last minute, he changed his plans form being 5 miles away to meeting up at a restaurant 40 minutes from our house.  Normally not a big deal, until this night.  As the phone calls came in, the story got bigger and bigger.  I arrived at the ER just in time to watch him be wheeled in front of me on a gurney in a cervical collar for extensive tests. The story that started out with being broken down on the highway got worse with every person that came in the room. 

The whole story is this: He'd been sick all last week but was feeling better. He met up with a friend last minute to grab a burger and fries since he was underweight, and was coming home WAY before he needed to (8pm) because he was tired. He closed his eyes for a split second on the highway, a head bob if you will, and realized he had drifted into the other lane.  He overcorrected, went off the side, hit the trees, and rolled the car onto the driver's side. The impact of the crash held him in his seatbelt so securely that the lumbar support in the seatback burst and blew out the side seams of the seat's upholstery.  He couldn't start the car because it was wedged onto the driver's side between the embankment and the trees.  He couldn't see anything through the windshield because the bumper, grill, and the rest of the front of the car was hanging in front of it. The side curtain air bags deployed, protecting his head from hitting the side window.  The front airbags did not deploy so he was able to open the glovebox.  As things fell everywhere, a butane lighter (always the Boy Scout) literally fell into his lap. He used it to cut through his seat belt. By the time the paramedics and police had arrived, they were able to smash the back window and he could crawl out unassisted.

Without. A. Single. Scratch.

He was not drunk or impaired.  He was not speeding. It was not 2 am, and he was not on the phone. He was TIRED.  How many times we go on auto pilot and have no idea how we've gotten to an exit or even all the way home? How often have we all just pushed through when deep down we know we shouldn't? I had no idea that when he walked out the door that I could have never heard his voice again. That I was so close to never hugging him again, or giving him crap about using the blender at 5 AM.

The hospital ran extensive tests, and we stayed for extra tests/ reassurance that at that point he was completely fine before we took him home. We arrived home around 1:30 in the morning.  The bus was leaving the school at 6:45. He slept next to me, getting about 4 hours of sleep, interrupted after 2 hours to check on him.  The decision to allow him on the mat to wrestle, while heavily weighed in on by us, was mostly made by him since he was one month from his 18th birthday. I had to trust that he could make this decision for himself, becasue in just a few short months he will be two hours from home having to make big decisions for himself when we are not there to weigh in.  He had drilled with his team for an hour or so before and felt okay. He assured us he'd be fine. 

His first match was much harder than it should have been., and thirty seconds in I had to walk away, leaving him under the scrutiny of the husband's watchful eyes.  His second match was far less stressful as he pinned his opponent in 27 seconds.  As the radioactive dye from the CT scan he'd had just hours earlier worked it's way through his system, I could see his color returning, his energy replenish, and he was a bit more like himself.  His third match was over in the second period, technical, but safely wrestled. His last match of the day was hard fought, and lost by 2 points. He placed second overall, SECOND. On four hours of sleep, straight out of a car crash.

We continued to celebrate his win throughout the week  by moving his bed upstairs, 15 feet from ours to check on him throughout the night. We ensured that his appetite continued to be strong, that he didn't spike a fever, and that he wasn't showing any signs of residual trauma. Throughout the week he had some ups and downs, and by Friday he was back on the mat wrestling for the State Championship.  He won one, but lost two, and that was the end of it.  As he left the mat for the last time you can tell he was heartbroken. Despite the comeback over the last month, he had wanted to go to All States again this year.  To finish as stong on the mat as he felt on the inside.

But just like that, it was over.  Like the bank of trees that abruptly stopped the car, the loss on the mat abruptly stopped the last four years of his training, routine, and dreams. The loss has obviously been magnified by not having a car and still being on concussion watch.  It's been a bit bumpy to say the least.  The girlfriend/not girlfriend from whom he was taking a break has circled back around having heard about his accident. We see her more now than when they were dating. He went to his Club wrestling coach to check in and say his goodbyes.  He's upped his work schedule and is trying new gyms to find a new routine.  And while he's agreed that now might not be the best time to be taking head shots in MMA or Boxing, he's been walking around of late like he's indestructible. Which, for his step father and I has been less than easy to swallow. Our trauma from the fall out of it all, coupled with his attitude of it being no big deal, has had us at each other's throats. 

Last night the girlfriend/not girlfriend was over watching a movie.  She left about 9:30, and I asked if she was okay to drive home.  He said yes, she was fine, yawned and headed to bed.  This morning I hear a weird noise from the other room, he's on the phone with her, woken her up in fact. 

"Who is that?"

"I woke her up.  She didn't text me when she got home.  And I called her twice and she didn't answer."

"And now you, and everyone you know, is paranoid about driving tired."

"Yup."

It's sinking in, penetrating the indestructible shield that is the seventeen year old armor.  Welcome kiddo to a fraction of how I feel every time you leave the house.  Or, miss curfew by even 5 minutes.  Or, get behind the wheel again to go to work just seven miles away.

And pray he has his angels riding shotgun.